Photosynthesis
by Ellsee89
Summary: Lady Edith Crawley makes a few changes in her life following her ill-fated wedding. Some for the better, others for the worse. Begins directly after 3.03, and will remain AU from there and generally free of spoilers.


**Disclaimer: **None of this belongs to me. It's all shamefully borrowed from Julian Fellowes.

Well, here it is; my first fanfiction in over five years! I've made a new account, and hopefully, my writing has improved a bit since high school. I suppose you all will be the judge.

This story will be entirely Edith-centric, and likely won't stray too far from her perspective. I'll be watching the third series as I write this, and I've read quite a few spoilers, but I think I can safely say that this one will remain fairly unique from the story line. One thing I'm going to include is Edith's journey to London to stay with her Aunt Rosamund, but for this story, it won't last long. I want Edith to make her own way, but I'm going to try my best to keep her in character as we know her now. There's some debate among Downtonians as to whether Edith needs to make a big change in her life to heal, and while I agree, I don't think she needs to transform into a different person entirely. I want my Edith to experience life outside of her Downton-induced bubble, but in that, I want her learn to accept herself as she is. And without giving too much away, I'd like to see her meet Anthony Strallan again. I think the two had (and still have) genuine feelings for one another, and I suspect Fellowes might revisit that at some point. I know I certainly will.

And without further adieu:

* * *

Chapter One: Like Spinning Plates

_A pair of kind, love-filled eyes; warm breath on her neck before he pulled away; a whisper that lingered:_

_"Do you know how much you mean to me? You have given me back my life."_

_A dark room. Her bridal gown lovingly discarded on a nearby chair. His viable hand gently moves across her body as they lay beside each other in a large bed. She moans his name into his ear as his kisses travel further south..._

* * *

Sunlight streamed through heavy curtains, stubbornly peeking through the smallest of gaps in the fine linen. It illuminated the large, open bedchamber with ease, disturbing the room's sole occupant from her slumber.

Lady Edith Crawley's eyelids fluttered against the intrusive sunlight. Instinctively, she reached for the opposite side of the bed, but was met with cold, barren sheets. She realized, once again, that none of it had been real.

Each morning was the same shock. Bitterly, she awoke from the dream they had planned for the rest of their lives, only to be thrown back into a reality harsher and less forgiving than any she had ever imagined, even during the war. She pressed her eyes shut, holding her pillow over her face in a vain effort to reclaim her dream. Her eyes welled up in the failed effort.

Three months had passed since Sir Anthony Strallan had jilted her on her wedding day. _Their _wedding day. She had cried daily for the first two weeks; great, overwhelming sobs that continued until her eyes dried out and there were no tears left for her to shed. For the rest of that first, awful month, she did not exist to the halls of Downton. She rose for breakfast each morning to the delight of her family and the servants, but after eating what little she could stomach, she disappeared to her bedchamber and spent the remainder of her days asleep. While she slept, she dreamt of him, and for each blissful hour that she was not awake, she tricked herself into believing that her reality was nothing more than a nightmare.

Eventually, a worried Mama and an anxious Papa took to spending great stretches of time in her room. They seemed to work in shifts, each coaxing her to sit up in bed, preventing her from drifting off earlier than the appropriate time to retire. She could not count how many times they reminded her of this activity or that event, all in an effort to entice her out of bed and back into a society to which she no longer hoped to belong. Sleep was her only solace, and for the first time in her twenty-six years, she wished for her parents to pay her _less _attention.

Mary and Cousin Matthew came and went often, each careful never to visit at the same time. No doubt, they worried how Edith would react to seeing the two of them side by side, happy, and hopelessly in love; a tragic reminder of all that she did not have, and what would now never be. Mercifully, Sybil and Tom left for Dublin less than a week after her humiliation. She knew they tried to wish her well before they departed, but Edith had spurned their affections. Four unopened letters from Sybil and one from Tom lay forgotten on her bedside table.

_"All of us married. All of us happy. And the first baby on the way!"_

How naive she had been to assume that she would be even half as happy as her sisters. Why had she let herself believe that anyone could love her the way Matthew loved Mary? And who other than Sybil could enchant a man enough to run away with her, as Tom had? Day after day, she tortured herself with every detail of her misfortune until she felt nothing but emptiness. And each night, his face haunted her subconscious.

But time continued on the way it always had, and eventually, Edith found herself abandoning her solitude for more than just breakfast. At two months past the wedding, autumn was fast approaching, turning the great lawns of Downton into a colorful display of fallen leaves. As children, Edith, Mary and Sybil spent hours running around the grounds, marveling at the sound the brittle, dead leaves made under their boots. When she gazed out her bedroom window, she could almost picture the three of them running about; playing tag and showing off cartwheels under the ever-watchful gaze of their governess.

In the past, the autumn days carried with them a crispness in the air that Edith loved; a cool breeze against her face and a good excuse to take out her favorite coat. Even now, in her despair, she had great difficulty denying the call of her favorite season. Just last week, she had dragged Isis out from under Papa's desk to join her for a stroll. She was not quite ready to beg the company of her family, but she knew they were relieved to see her leaving the manor, even if she still kept to the grounds.

As two months since her failed wedding turned to three, Edith resumed her place amongst her family in the sitting room. Though she still made her excuses and avoided a formal dinner, she spent her luncheons downstairs.

"I'm quite pleased to see you up and about, my dear, and looking well," her grandmother had said when she finally caught sight of her middle granddaughter after several weeks of inquiries. "We were all beginning to think you'd become a shut-in."

"_Mama,"_ Papa rose to Edith's defense, "Edith knows she has all the time in the world to join us. If she'd prefer to do so slowly, then I support her."

"Thank you, Papa," Edith smiled wanly, and sipped her tea. As her grandmother prattled on about the virtues of occupying one's time properly, Edith wanted nothing more than jump straight out of her skin. But nothing stung worse than the day, a few weeks later, that Granny brought Sir Anthony back into the conversation:

"Edith, dear, Sir Anthony Strallan seems to be getting on remarkably well. Just yesterday, one of my maids spotted him poking about the bakery. Perhaps you should think about heading into the village for a bit of shopping as well?"

Edith's teacup nearly slipped from of her shaking fingers. "Sh-shopping, Granny?"

"Yes, shopping. Are you having trouble hearing, dear?"

"Mama, I hardly think Edith wants to discuss—"

"I'm sure she doesn't want to hear anything at all about the man who jilted her, Cora, but it's not as if Sir Anthony is going to sell Loxley. I hear it's quite well-managed. They're bound to run into each other eventually."

Meeting Sir Anthony in any place other than her dreams was a possibility that Edith certainly had considered, though she never knew exactly how it would occur. Many times, she had to hold herself back from writing him in desperation, and on some days, she wanted nothing more than to beg him to reconsider their marriage. And every so often, she thought of taking the car over to Loxley and driving a hole through his perfectly kept sitting room. But Granny's well-intentioned comment brought a new, horrible thought to her mind: what if they met unexpectedly? For several days, she had dwelled relentlessly on the thought of what might happen, but the previous night, she finally came to a conclusion.

Although she still remained under the covers, Edith could feel that the air in her bedroom held that distinct chill that was customary for autumn in Downton. The walls, ancient as they were, retained heat well, but by morning, there was always a nip in the air that made it difficult to leave bed and dress for the day. Edith had grown used to a reluctance to leave bed over the past three months, but today, she had plans to make. Today, she would leave Downton Abbey.

She had a letter to write.

* * *

Liked it? Hated it? Let me know!


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